DAY 3 – Juicy Goss! Ocky strap shenanigans, came a cropper, scary croc puddles and reliving his BMX bike-riding days

Anyone spot a 4-foot-looking 56 year old BMX bandit riding along the Gibb River Road yesterday and today?

That would be Willy.

He didn’t have the Winny Reds tucked in his LHS sleeve but, reminiscent of his “tracky dacks tucked into his long socks” BMX bandit days (I am privvy to photos), his knees were almost hitting his chin every time he peddled.

Left. Upper cut. Right. Upper cut…

Poor fella had to endure riding with his seat pole slowly sliding down after every gravelly, rocky bump.

He’s ridden fully packed quite a few times through the Border Ranges here on the GC without issue as part of his prep but I guess the roads are so brutal even his seat pole wanted to hide from it.

An easy fix but despite allll the tools he took for the ‘just in case’ preparations, a seat pole clamp was not one of them.

Mario. Mario. Where for art thou Mario.

Noted for next time.

Next time????

And then…..

Whilst still riding, he mucked around shuffling the bike packs to accommodate the new seat height issseww.

He hurriedly unstrapped the ocky strap and it flung off like a cat with a firecracker up…under its tail.

Imagine it. Slow motion silence. And then all you hear in the red desert quiet was a speedy ‘whizz bang pffffft’ soundtrack straight out of a Jacky Chan movie.

Into the back derailleur she flies.

And oh lordy lord did the desert see red.

“J*$sus Ch$#st, Todd!”

The bird chant returns. (Refer Day 2 blog)

And then….

With all the unsteadiness and the fact the ocky strap stopped him with bungee cord force completely in his gravelly tracks, he comes a cropper.

A bit of bark off.

Bad day at the office, hey.

Undeterred, he eventually handles the situation with a beautiful calmness and mechanical aplomb i.e he yanks the bejoizus out of it – and continues to ride into the last bit of day into the night.

Feeling good, and wanting to ride for as long as he physically could, even with the seat pole selfishly acting like one of those weird pop up whistle lollipops, he kept going until about 8.30pm, had a quick 1 hr kip, porridge and coffee.

Then he went back to the route to start up again and, even though he knew it was coming up, he was greeted by a river crossing.

Now dark, it was hard to assess the depth and the width.

There were campers on the same side of the bank so he made the sensible decision not to cross if they clearly chose not to either in their vehicle tonight. I second that emotion. Eeeee.

A bit bummed to be stuck on this side of the banks though when you feel ready and rearing to goooooo.

Alas, he bunkered in.

I think this must have been Durack Crossing as I’m sure that’s where he left from today.

At least it meant a decent rest and up and at ’em today, DAY 3, to greet a most glorious sunrise.

Refer to piccies.

I’ve got a case of the how pretties!

He goes back to start the course again at daylight to what he assumed was going to be a raging, crocodile infested river crossing only Bear Grylls could bear.

Bracing himself.

In amazement. Shock even.

He had to look twice.

All it was, was a piddly puddle.

Nooooooo. Time wasted overnight for no good reason.

Kicking himself for stopping.

Time to get going now.

And oh. More goss…

So how it ends (I think – because he’s still on the road) is he stops at Home Valley station – a pretty cool looking place in the middle of absolutely.no.where. around 1.00pm to check out repair options for the seat pole plus get some much needed supplies.

He calls.

Blurtzzz out all the above in 3 minutes flat and promptly says “I’ll upload some photos and call you later. There’s a motorbike guy here who might be able to help”.

Or something to that effect.

He didn’t call back.

And he’s on his bike now.

About 5km from the Pentecost River crossing.

He should have worn his Crocs*.

Presuming salties don’t eat their own kind?

Hopefully he’ll make it early evening to Kununurra.

24 hour supplies there before the Tanami.

He’ll need to have his Willy wits about him then.

Water sparse and no supplies for everrrrrrr.

Bring it on, says Willy!

Some awesome pics below.

Keep peddling Willy!

You’re smashing it!

P.S. Willy does not, and never will, own a pair of Crocs.

EDIT: Just before hitting the publish button. He’s survived the Pentecost River croc crossing by the looks. Or at least the dot is still moving. And moving at a pace I would expect from Toddles. So guessing all good with the seat? Fingers crossed. If not, he’ll have to wait in Kununurra to make sure he has all that is required before the next scary stretch.